Psychodroning
by John Locke
Summary: Challenge: Pick a novel and the first sentence from every page that is a multiple of 10, write a drabble based on the quote. All apply to Joker, some strong themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Psychodroning by John Locke**

Pick a novel (or book), preferably one of more than 100 pages in length, and take the first (full) sentence off of the top of page; 10, 20, 30, 40 & etc. Until you have ten (or thereabouts) quotes. Take said ten (or so) quotes and write drabbles based on them. You can use the whole quote, or just a section, even a word – all that matters is that you stay faithful to the first sentence part of the challenge.

**A/N: **All quotes are from William Faulkner's _As I Lay Dying. _I don't own AILD, or Joker/Batman related characters.

I- "Pa and Vernon are sitting on the back porch."

Easy prey knows not that its prey, because the danger they sense is nothing. Cackle from my lips turns into a howl only I can hear and the whine of leather overrides everything as I clutch by instrument. I stalk to the screen to see what seem to be Pa and son sitting on the back porch. East prey knows nothing. The screen screams in agony as my card rips through it, and I cackle once more before bounding towards the boy. Danger is here, but all they feel is surprise and a gentle downpour of blood down their throats.


	2. Chapter 2

**Still don't own anything!**

II- "As you enter the hall, they sound as though they were speaking out of the air about your head."

The voices follow him wherever he goes, all day everyday without rest. They prattle on about everything and nothing, and the most annoying voices are the ones of the Dark Knight and his little twerp of a sidekick. He claws at his ears when their voices sound as though they were speaking out of the air around his head, causing him to jump around every corner of his lair. The stark white skin around his ears is always scratched raw, though still devoid of color except from the pinpricks of blood that stain the clawed marks. They won't shut up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Not my book/characters. My ideas.**

III- "But it's just like him to marry a woman born a day's hard ride away and have her die on him."

Harley Quinn wouldn't die for him. No, she just fucking wouldn't kick the old metal bucket just to make him happy. Her high nasally voice encroached on his peace when he attempted to sleep, her daunting red and black decorations littered his space, and dare he say that she had even wormed her way into his subconscious and heart? It's just like him to use a woman, hell anyone, and for some reason attaches meaning to them. She needed to die. He loved her and she needed to die. To have her die _on_ him though, that might be fun.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm not making any money off of this, wish I could... but not mine.**

IV- "She wouldn't say what we both knew." 

Harley.. She chose this herself. Irrational, rational... it doesn't make any sort of difference-not one iota. She chose _me_ for reasons that will never make sense. So what if I, for heaven's sake, cried in front of her? Crocodile tears they were not, and I suppose that might have been the beginning of the end. We both knew that there was something… different about us. _Us_ being a word I never use in the context of relationships. That word is unholy and it burns my anterior cingulate cortex just thinking about what I have done with Harley. I… love her…


	5. Chapter 5

**Same as the last ones, not mine.**

V- "She's gone."

She's gone, but she's not dead. That's such a shame, she's with Ivy now. That plant whore is such a pain. She's gone and I don't miss her, not at all. I have Batsy to keep me busy, and a trashcan full of her belongings for the goons to pick through. No. I'll just burn it. She's gone, and if she eve comes back she wouldn't want her things to be touched by mutants. Irony… she's gone. I don't want her back, I don't want her stuff… I don't want these memories. They'll be gone tomorrow, and so will she.


	6. Chapter 6

**My favorite one. :D**

VI- "I cannot see the barn."

He can hit the side of a barn with a batarang… no, he could hit a batarang with the side of a barn. I can't even see the fucking barn coming right at my face and he enjoys that. I know he enjoys it because the cowl loosens with amusement and I can see the edges of his nose. It hurts, and that's bad, no, that's not cool because it fucking sucks. He ruins my nonexistent complexion with the side of a barn. I am a marred; he laughs and hits me with the barn again when I attempt to dodge.


	7. Chapter 7

**Mmm I think I'm done with disclaimers.**

VII- "He looked at me, his eyes round and black in the middle like when you throw light in a owl's face." 

Shock, abhorrence, amazement, disgust, I see all of those things in his face as I threw myself forward and placed a flat palmed hand against his ass. The squeeze was what did it though. Even the starlite lenses around his eyes rounded and looked even whiter against the black of his cowl. The words I throw in his direction make his eyes narrow so his face holds only black anger. "Get your filthy hand off me," he growls. But he doesn't step away, I keep my hand there for what seems to be an hour, but is only a few seconds.


	8. Chapter 8

**(Pssst. Not mine... pass it on)**

VIII- "On the dark floor feet clump awkwardly, as though for a long time they have not walked on floors."

There is no feeling in his feet, in his whole body really, but there is such less feeling in his feet that they scream in agony just to be acknowledged. Rubbed raw from fingers scratching and rope burning skin flailed angrily around as he struggled to stand. Drag drag thud. Drag pull thud. On the dark roof his feet pound awkwardly, having not been used due to their incessant screaming. He shuts them up by dragging them along with him, body lurching forward not feeling his face his the rooftop. Nightwing will rue the day, he swears it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Warning: Violence**

IX- "Cash comes out."

If you hit a bag of cash, you'd think the seam would rip and cash would come flying out like it does in those action flicks. The wind coming from nowhere and all. So its natural to think that when you hit a kid with a crow bar he would bust a gut and his entrails would come leaping at you, gale force winds included. But no, the blood only starts pouring after you pound them a couple of times in the face, once, twice, a seventh time. I can honestly say I was disappointed, but it was fun nonetheless.


End file.
